


(Between the lines) of fear and blame

by oikava



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Everyone is oblivious to what's happening except Isaac, Lots of it, M/M, Oblivious Scott, Stiles is in a really bad place
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 15:05:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3533921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oikava/pseuds/oikava
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd never felt so <em>submerged</em> before, so out of control and he knows when it's going to crash and burn it's going to <em>hurt like a bitch</em>, but that's not enough to make him want to put an end to it. Because Stiles' a living roller coaster and letting things go as far as they do before they come crashing down around him and bury him underneath is pretty much how he functions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(Between the lines) of fear and blame

**Author's Note:**

> hi ao3! title's from the fray. wrote this listening to goo goo dolls' iris. half inspired by [this.](http://img11.hostingpics.net/pics/824773tumblrmdn9tumkk61rtlzg3o1r21280.jpg)

 

 

 

Going after Derek feels like chasing the wind, something elusive that slips through his fingers each time he thinks he finally has a grip on it. It feels bewildering and like an illusion, scattered fragments of a near-reality so different from everything Stiles' ever known and yearned for. (He still hadn't decided whether Derek Hale's a gift to his existence, or the greatest curse to ever fall upon it.)

 

It happens once when they're both recovering from the kanima and the two hours in the pool, breathless and chilled to the bone, and then it just keeps happening, a downward spiral Stiles doesn't wish to get out of. _His_ image burns into his eyelids, voice keeps resonating in his head, never-ending and like a broken record Stiles doesn't want to ever fix. His _kisses_ and _the feeling of his broad shoulders when he's pushing him into the bed and wrapping himself around him like a warm blanket_ and the _sight of his tousled head and bleary eyes in the early morning_ and his _crooked, almost invisible smile_ when Stiles says something he actually finds amusing, though he would sooner eat wolfsbane for breakfast than admit it.

 

Most of the people Stiles knows in the small excuse for a town he's grown up in are pristinely dull, boring, dreary and so fucking _insipid_ ; but Derek is wild and bold and untamed and so fucking beautiful and Stiles doesn't get him but that's okay because Stiles never gets the ones that have their way to steal his heart away and make a home in his mind. Likely never will.

 

It’s completely insane and out of line and he's so _so_ going to hell but he can't care less about any of it, not when _Derek'_ s holding him and whispering sweet nothings in his ear laying in the dark in the half-rebuilt Hale house. The ghosts are everywhere, judging Stiles and warning him and murmuring just _how screwed he is_ over and over but that he doesn't care about either because Derek's all he can give a damn about anymore, and he wonders how his brain ever worked differently because now it's Derek-shaped and it's so scary but also so impossibly, unprecedentedly _exhilarating_.

 

His dad asks who it is because Dad always figures out everything and Scott, _oblivious_  Scott jumps in with his good-natured smile and sing-songs _Lydia_ and Stiles lets them both think that because it's so much safer than the truth on every possible level. He pretends to smile bashfully when Scott winks at him and makes a show of groaning when Dad ruffles his hair and reminds him that Jackson's out of the picture now, and Stiles nods as though that still means anything.

 

He feels lightheaded when he realises how much _it doesn't_ , not anymore. And Stiles freaking loves Lydia Martin and profoundly respects her for everything she is even more now than before, but the notion of taking Jackson's place didn't even cross his mind since before Jackson's actually left because _she'_ s not the one constantly inhabiting his thoughts anymore.

 

He knows Isaac has his doubts, because Isaac is so much more observant than Scott and can't possibly miss the overwhelming scent of his first Alpha all over Stiles no matter how thorough he is about washing it away. Doesn't seem to believe him when he tells him and Scott that they've been training together, either, which is not a total lie because they do train when they're not busy doing _other things_ , but lets it go because that's how Isaac is and why Stiles feels like they could be really good friends one day, maybe, if they give it a try.

  

Stiles' neck-deep in things more pressing than befriending Isaac, though. And it's driving mad the control-freak part of him because he'd never felt so _submerged_ before, so out of control and he knows when it's going to crash and burn it's going to _hurt like a bitch_ , but that's not enough to make him want to put an end to it. Because Stiles' a living roller coaster and letting things go as far as they do before they come crashing down around him and bury him underneath is pretty much how he functions.

 

Because if Lydia's a tornado Derek's a hurricane, lashing out on Stiles' life and altering the very axis of everything. Literally, as Derek barging in their life changed everything for all of them, but Stiles more than anyone. Because now instead of dreaming of fiery hair and cherry lips, he dreams of upsettingly intense hazel eyes and dark stubble. Instead of longing for sharp smiles and familiar curves he longs for short black hair tickling his face, rough hands on his hips and silent stares. Instead of watching Lydia when he's bored in class he stares at his phone for hours on end trying to decide whether to text Derek and what, until Harris yells at him that class’ over and he's so distracted he didn't even hear the bell.

 

 _Derek Hale Derek Hale Derek Hale_ The name feels like it's carved into his bones and Stiles withers a little with every breath Derek exhales, whether it be when he's thrusting relentlessly into him like both their lives depend on it or when he's looking blankly at him with the faintest raise of a brow and twitch of lips or when they're in the middle of a deadly battle and Derek's always the first to throw himself into the lion's den like he doesn't care about making it out alive. That's all the little things Stiles learns to notice, anticipate and apprehend, fear and crave, expect and dread, _die_ and _live_ for.

 

All the stupid things that make him fall so hard for Derek Hale he doesn't even have the visceral reflex to look down and make sure there's something to cushion his fall.

 

 

 

_~~~_

 

 

 

Scott comes to him with the news first, unconcerned and casual like he can just drop the bomb offhandedly and expect unsuspecting Stiles to process it. He makes a sound that must convey he didn’t hear him and Scott says it again, elaborating that now that the Alpha Pack and the Darach have been defeated, _Derek no longer has anything left for him in Beacon Hills_ and that _he's not coming back._

 

_Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left. Derek left-_

 

Stiles says he needs to go to the bathroom and Scott brushes him off dismissively, not even looking up from his book. Stiles leaves the school and takes his Jeep and drives, _drives_ drives drives until there's no more asphalt and his car's rolling on unaltered soil.

 

He gets out of the Jeep and leans against it, ragged breath and panic so heavy in his chest he feels like his knees are about to crumple under the weight of it. He's shaking all over and as the disbelief slowly fades away and realisation sinks in he vaguely feels like he’s going to puke his insides out.

 

Because Derek can't possibly run away like a thief, _not after everything that happened_ and Stiles isn't counting what only the both of them know. Not after the multiple life-saving and death-facing together, all the times they'd helped each other out begrudgingly at first and then more and more readily, all the times they'd _bled_ next to one another and fought fervently by each other's side.

 

Stiles thinks he deserves at least a proper goodbye.

 

He takes off, darts through the woods that had been first-hand spectators of some of the most important events in his life, passing by the place where he first met him, _what are you doing here this is private property_. Trips on a stick and only barely avoids falling. He speeds up when he reaches Hale territory, foliage diminishing as he starts glimpsing the remains of the Hale house, not quite demolished but not even close to restorated either.

 

He's expecting the Camaro, or open curtains, or anything that means the house is still occupied and Derek's going to sense his presence and get out and snap at him because he knows Stiles' supposed to be at school and Stiles will tell him Scott stupidly thought that he was gone and scared the shit out of him, and then Derek will roll his eyes and call Scott a moron and reluctantly tell Stiles to come inside now that he'd come all the way here.

 

There's no car, no sign of life, _nothing._

 

It feels like everything in him just unravels, his whole being a perpetual chant of _Derek is gone he's really gone_ and Stiles wants it to _stop_. He turns away because he can't bear the sight of the big, terribly, patently _empty_ house any longer without breaking down there and then in front of the imposing structure that still smells of ashes and starts running again.

 

 He runs for so long his legs feel like they're on fire and he doesn't know where he is anymore, getting lost in those woods for the first time since he was old enough to explore them alone and more or less losing himself in the process.

 

  _He's gone, he's not coming back, there's nothing left for him in Beacon Hills anymore._

 

 In Derek’s defence, Stiles never was under any delusion that he was an enough reason to make him stay.

 

 His knees finally buckle, hands digging in the dirt, nails scratching at the earth beneath him. He's choking back a sob when he realises that he's panting, the only reason he's not already having a panic attack probably that the surges of _pain pain pain_ are too strong to let him drift underwater, sorrow eating away at his guts like worms nibbling on his core.

 

  
Stiles falls to the ground and screams.


End file.
